


Nonna's Spaghetti

by A_Single_Tulip



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: //essentially the entire team is there but I don't think I'm gonna write out all those tags o-o, Family Fluff, Feels, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 05:56:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19144912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Single_Tulip/pseuds/A_Single_Tulip
Summary: Everyone on the team doesn't exactly have faith in Scout when it comes to cooking anything. Scout just wants to prove them all wrong.





	Nonna's Spaghetti

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so I've essentially headcanoned Scout as being half French with Italian blood from his mom's side. Hope y'all like what I've done!

“What do you mean I’m not allowed to make dinner?!” Scout exclaimed dramatically as he threw his hands up in the air. Every night within the base, the task of making dinner that evening was left to one of the mercs, with there being someone new cooking every night until it was time for the process to repeat. For the longest time since becoming a team, every time it was Scout’s night, all the mercs would usually order take out or get their own dinner themselves. Scout was...notoriously known for not really being able to create anything relatively edible. Even Pyro managed to make food that was somewhat manageable, but then again no one wanted to say no to the arsonist.

Engineer sighed, raising a hand to run a hand across his scalp. "Listen, son. We all appreciate your eagerness to uh...share your creations with everyone but uh-"

"But your food is bloody terrible, lad!" Demoman shouted, cutting off Engineer in a somewhat coherent slur as he took another swig from the bottle in his hand.

"Yeah...what Tavish said. I'm sorry boy, but every time you try to make something, you either completely ruin our taste buds or send us all to the Doc with food poisonin'. We just don't wanna risk it. You understand, right?"

Scout merely scoffed, folding his arms over his chest before turning away from Engineer, as well as anyone else who'd decided to listen to the conversation. "Yeah, whateva' man…" He grumbled before striding off down the hall, nearly everyone's eyes on him as he exited the dining area.

Engineer winced before turning to the rest of the team. "Do y'all think I was too hard on him?"

"Nah…" chimed Sniper, tucking his sunglasses into the collar of his shirt. "The kid'll be fine, you know how well he bounces back."

"Oui, Monsieur Sniper is right." Spy agreed, nodding his head once. "If I know one thing about that boy, it's that he isn't one to usually let such trivial matters hurt him too badly."

"Well I hope you're right Spy, last thing we need is for him to do something stupid." Engineer sighed, going back into the kitchen to fix his own dinner up.

For once though, Scout wasn't actually up to anything remotely mischievous or stupid. Carefully depositing the change he'd had in his pocket into the outside payphone, he dialed a number he knew all too well.

The voice of a woman answered on the other end, "Hello?"

"Uh, hey Ma'. It's me…" Scout replied, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Jeremy! What a wonderful surprise, honey. I wasn't expecting you to call until Tuesday." Scout's mom replied in an accent all too similar to Scout's Bostonian accent.

"I know, I know Ma', but this couldn't wait. It's just...I'm in a little bit of a bind."

"What'd ya' do this time?" Was the immediate response he got back.

"Nah, Nah, Nothin' like that Ma'." He reassured with a small chuckle. "It's just that, well, every night we have someone cook dinner and I wanna make something's for the guys...but they're too afraid to let me make 'em anything anymore. You make a guy have to get his stomach pumped one time, and all of a sudden nobody trusts ya!"

A soft laugh could be heard on the other end of the line, prompting Scout to let out an exasperated sigh. "Ma', I'm serious about this! I need your help."

"I know, I'm sorry sweetie. It's just cute how you still wanna get into cooking. Remember how you used to help your Nonna out in the kitchen when you were real little? You'd help her stir the spaghetti sauce while she adding the ingredients."

"Course I'd remember. How could I forget her?..." Scout replied, a sad smile coming across his face.

He thought back on being only about six years old, sitting on a stool pressed up against the kitchen counter with scraped knees just barely scabbing over and a bandage on his cheek. To say that he loves his Nonna would be an absolute understatement. He adored her.

"Jeremy, my little passerotto! Did you get into trouble with your brother's again? I a'told you not to follow them out to go see those neighborhood boys again, they're a bunch of idiotas." His Nonna had exclaimed once while entering the kitchen to strain the spaghetti.

"I know Nonna...but I just wanna be big like them! They're always calling me names, like shrimp or tiny…" Scout was obviously dejected about the whole ordeal. As the youngest of eight boys, he was also the smallest, a real runt as described by those who teased him.

"Ah, don't listen to those good for nothings. You're my 'a big strong boy. Promise me though that you'll never get too big to help your Nonna to make her 'a spaghetti, Sì?"

"Yes, yes, yes Nonna! I'll always be there to help you!" He shouted, nearly falling off the stool after leaping up excitedly.

Stifling a laugh out of not wanting to upset the young fiery boy, the elderly woman just handed him a wooden spoon before placing a kiss to his cheek. "Then help me stir the sauce while I add my special ingredients, eh?"

What made his Nonna's spaghetti so special was the sauce. He never did know what was in it, with the only other person who knew being his mother. He could distinctly remember something that his Nonna once told him. "It doesn't matter if you're the richest man in the world, or a pauper, my bambino. A nice warm meal made with love that can be shared with those you care for is the most priceless thing in the world."

To say that he was devastated the day he got the call wouldn't be enough to describe just how bad he felt. He'd been on the team nearly a year and a half when Miss Pauling had told him that an urgent call was waiting for him. She'd had a stroke, and sadly nothing could be done for her. It was after that that he was anything but his usual self for a while.

"Yeah...still think about her every day. Nearly brings a tear to my eye." Scout was pulled back to reality at hearing his mom speak, quickly rubbing his hand over his eye.

"So...do you think you could help me...I wanna be able to make something for the guys."

"Of course, sweetheart. Nonna would be real proud now if she could see ya."

* * *

That weekend, Scout went to go visit his mother, who had since moved into a home near Teufort in order to be closer to her youngest son. The second he arrived at his mother’s small and humble home, he was immediately ushered in by the obviously excited woman. With no daughters to teach, or any of her other sons interested, it wasn’t a surprise that Scout’s mother was so eager to share the recipe with someone after all these years. Someone who could share the happiness that the food brought along with it.

Of course, they went over the basics, what with boiling pasta being rather simple when you actually knew what to do. It was the sauce though, that you really have to put your heart into.

“Ya’ see, Nonna always knew when the tomatoes would be at their best. The middle of summer is always best for getting them. Plum tomatoes specifically go well in the sauce, but when you know a little bit more about the sorta’ thing, I’ll teach you how to get a little fancier with the sauce.” 

Scout merely nodded, beginning to help his mom slice up some tomatoes to go into the pot that was on the stove.

With his mom’s help, Scout was soon adding ingredients to the pot, carefully stirring it as he made sure to make a mental note of what he was using. By the time he’d finished the sauce, his mom was practically beaming at him.

“Alright, now just combine the pasta and the sauce, and it should be ready hon.”

Scout sighed before transferring the sauce into the bowl that the spaghetti had already been set aside in. “I...I’m nervous, Ma. What if it doesn’t taste good?” He muttered, stirring the sauce into the pasta.

“Oh, honey...I’m sure it’ll taste great. I believe in you…” His Ma replied, rubbing his back reassuringly.

This caused Scout to give a short but determined nod before plating the spaghetti on to two plates for him and his mother while she grabbed two forks and they made their way to the table.

Hesitantly, he stared down at the spaghetti but was surprised to see his mom try it without hesitation. She merely smiled after swallowing the bite before looking at Scout.

“It’s perfect...absolutely perfect.”

Not believing it, Scout picked up a forkful and shoved it into his mouth, eyes widening the moment the flavor hit his tongue. It wasn’t exactly like his Nonna’s, but...it tasted like home. At seeing just how well he did with the guidance he had from his mom, he felt confident that by the time it was his turn to cook, that he’d definitely be ready if he just practiced and practiced.

* * *

It has been exactly eight days since Scout had been told that he wasn’t able to cook, and the rest of the men were about ready to place in their own takeout orders through the phone after entering the base, only to stop in their tracks. Something smelled...something smelled rather delightful, and whatever it was, it was coming from down the hall near the dining room area. 

Even as Spy entered, his own eyes widened at suddenly smelling an all too familiar smell. “Angelica…” He quietly uttered under his breath, just barely coming out as a whisper as his footsteps began to quicken down the hall, trying to follow the smell to see just who the hell was the cause of it.

He stopped just in front of the doorway of the kitchen area, half expecting to see the all too familiar face of someone he still found himself captivated by to this day...only to see another face that shocked him even know. For once, a certain motormouth was near silent, save for the small humming that left him as he stirred a wooden spoon within a spot, carefully lifting it up to his lips to give it a taste test before adding a little bit of salt to it.

At realizing the familiar feeling of being watched, Scout turned around to meet Spy’s eyes. He awkwardly smiled before he announced, “Should be ready in a few minutes. Why don’tcha’ tell the guys to set the table, alright?”

Still in shock, Spy nodded before exiting the kitchen to merely state, “Scout is making dinner. He’d like for us to set the table.”

Everyone was what could only be described as a mix between confusion and a little bit of concern. They could only hope that their food poisoning wouldn’t be as bad as last time.

Soon, the table was set and before they knew it, Scout had finally emerged from the kitchen as he began to place a plate of spaghetti in front of each of his team members that were seated at the table. After he was done, he finally took his place seated in between Heavy and Sniper, nervously looking over each of the men as they stared down at the plates.

It looked edible, but to these men, looks could definitely be deceiving. They were a little anxious, looking between each other to see who would be the first to dare to try the dish.

They had to all hold in a sudden gasp at seeing Spy be the first to pick up the fork, twirling the spaghetti around it a few time before slowly lifting it to his mouth.

He...he was in shock. Just as the flavor had done for Scout, the taste immediately made Spy think of one thing. Home. He could remember sitting at home with his Angelica, his petite chou-fleur, and enjoying the homecooked meals she’d serve while managing to contain his laughter as he watched his son play with the spaghetti in his highchair. He looked back down at the plate for a second before bringing his fork down once more to lift another bite to his mouth.

The men were in awe at watching the expression on their colleague usually stern face soften at eating the meal. At once, they all began to dig in, now in just as much shock at just how good the spaghetti was while verbally showing their appreciation to the Bostonian as well.

“Ya’ did good, son.”

“Splendid job, Lad!”

“Wunderbar!”

“You made me proud, Soldier!”

“Bloody fantastic, mate.”

Scout could feel himself grinning ear to ear at each praise he received from his teammates, nearly forgetting to eat dinner himself as he watched them all actually enjoy what he gave them.

Near the end of dinner, as Scout washed the dishes, he heard Engineer speak from the doorway. “Son...’m sorry ‘bout what I said the other day. We’re all real proud of you and awful thankful for what you did for us.”

“Thank you…” Scout replied, looking up for a moment from the dishes, “...means a whole lot to me that you all liked it.”

As the evening went on, with Scout finally finishing up with washing up and drying the last of the dishes, he felt all warm and tingly on the inside. Was this how Nonna felt every time she ever made something for him and the family?

He looked out to the living room area, quietly bustling with the sounds of small talk as the television droned on in the background, along with the occasional sound of someone turning the pages of a book. This here...this was his family, the people he cared for. He loved them all despite everything, and he knew that in spite of all the annoying antics he’d ever put them through, that they felt the same. If he were being honest, he really wouldn’t have wanted to have it any other way, and that was the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> A bit short compared to my other works, but still sweet 😅
> 
> Don't forget to leave a comment below to tell me what you thought <3


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